Storm in the Desert
by Hearts of Paper
Summary: During the Second Shinobi World War a potential applicant to the Sunagakure Puppet Brigade, Arashi(OC), impresses the Third Kazekage and is thrown into a dark and deadly chain of events.
1. Succeeding Failure

**Storm in the Desert**

Standing at the far south of the circular hall, the elders of the Hidden Village in the Sand were visible out the upper corner of my left eye. The Third Kazekage stood with his arms crossed on the parapet. By his side stood the Honoured Siblings of Sunagakure overlooking the trainees in the hall. Ebizō patiently awaited the start of the exam, yet his eyes were already analysing each combatant. The boredom of waiting had driven his sister, Chiyo, to indulge in an afternoon nap. You would have thought the leader of the Puppet Brigade might have been slightly more interested in her potential future teammates, especially considering that she trained us all. The twenty five of us stood equidistant around the outskirts of the room, each with the intention of being one of the last five standing to pass the test and join the Puppet Brigade. Or that was the intention of twenty four of us at least.

The bell tolled as an indication to prepare our weaponised marionettes. Chiyo jutted upright from the rude awakening. All my class drew out their summoning scrolls and began to bring out their toys. I hesitated and deliberately delayed my technique, pushing my two tight braids of black hair behind each shoulder. A mass of freaky, twisted, wooden contraptions appeared before each proud puppeteer as their creations appeared before them. The satisfaction they got out of designing and using their own deadly mechanisms was truly perverse. One by one, their malicious eyes slowly turned to me in anticipation.

I boasted ten summons during the training. Ten. Sensei Chiyo could easily control ten puppets in perfect synchrony. The top of the class could control three puppets at most. Yet I, the girl at the bottom of the class, intended to use ten for the exam? Madness, to say the least. I was met with mockery and disregard. Even Chiyo had burst out in an uncontrollable fit of laughter when she first heard of it. Upon the realisation that no amount of scrutiny from anybody would every make me change my words they quickly lost interest and I became the ignored failure of the class once more. Now they were intrigued though. They wanted to see if I could keep to my promise, and my heart was set on delivering a show. Commanding the complete attention of all in the room I took central stage and calmly brought forth my summons. Ten summons I boasted, not ten puppets.

As the smoke around me cleared I crossed my arms, my fingers clutching my sides tightly to conceal my weapons. My right arm was mostly hidden by the cloth cloak that hung over my left shoulder and down to my elbow. Those close to me craned their necks to try and catch a glimpse of what was behind my back, yet it was to no avail. Above me I could see the Kazekage and Ebizō watching with what I thought, and hoped, was interest while Chiyo was shaking her head looking at the floor. Watch me. Casting the cloak behind me I extended my fingers. The chakra threads attached to each fingertip pulled out a floating blade from behind my back. The blades pointed away from me, five at each side, and were fanned out, almost akin to wings. The hilt of each blade was specially designed to allow for optimum control when using chakra strings. From there until half way up the blade they were serrated on both edges, an adjustment for destructive purposes, especially against wood. The rest of the blade was straight and ended just before the length of a normal katana in a sharp point designed for both perforation and slashing. I kept them still in the air beside me to show them off. The reactions of the examiners did not change, but I saw a mixture of hate, rage, disappointment, and comedy from my fellow classmates. Now I finally understood the pride of being able to implement my own masterpiece into battle. The bell rang out once more to signal the start of the fight as a smirk crept across my face.

The clattering of wooden parts spurring into action was deafening yet I could not allow myself to be distracted. I had insulted the uppity novices and wounded their pride, effectively painting a bull's-eye on my chest. Within moments ugly abominations swarmed me to try and claim that target. Throwing both hands forwards and twisting them round and round caused my blades to form a spinning vertical circle in front of me, which acted as a shield against oncoming projectiles. Behind the shield my visibility was reduced and created an opening for attackers, a trap for anybody stupid enough to try and seize it in all reality. Two matching puppets tried to move to flank me but were reduced to a heap of scrap when one of my blades danced through the two of them. Raising one arm in front and one behind, I dropped into a stance with blades floating all around me. With only a flick of the front wrist I sent one set of blades flying forward in a spiral, successfully stripping the body of one puppet of all its attachments, while tearing through another three. I charged forward with outright blades surrounding me. Puppets that got too close to me were impaled and shattered upon impact. Allowing myself to be surrounded by a group of them I jumped up as they attacked, looking down as they all missed. Some even damaged each other which was a helpful byproduct. I closed my eyes, smiled and spun gracefully through the air with my arms outstretched. The blades followed my movements and cut through the crowd of puppets that tried to catch me. I landed in a mess of residue as the blades floated to a halt around me. They sent an enjoyable amount of marionettes to their destruction by throwing them at me. All it took was the tiniest finger movement or the flick of a wrist and most their weapons were rendered useless. Very rarely would one pose a sufficient threat to actually make me worry. One practically presented itself to me so I slammed all ten blades into it for fun. The following one attempted to use the opportunity to attack. A foolish notion that resulted in a falling sweep from one lot of blades, which served to damage the machine. The same blades rose back up for a horizontal slash as it tried to retreat. I proved myself quicker than the toy as it was decimated by the strike. I hid my blades amongst the destruction that lay around the room, and jumped, causing them to spring up as a puppet was near them. I had eradicated most of the puppets in the hall alone as I lost myself to the feral euphoria of the fight.

Sadly my fun came to an end with the final toll of the bell. Returning to a neutral stand I grouped the blades above me, trying to fight back a grin as I looked up toward the elders. A scream echoed from behind me causing me to spin around. One of my classmates, engulfed by anger and madness, threw his arms forward as his monster followed. Its six bladed arms were pointed toward me and closing the distance between us. That caused the corners of my mouth to curl upwards. I dropped to my knees with milliseconds to spare and my blades fell, turning the mechanised beast into my own personal pincushion mere inches away from my face. As it twitched and broke I rose slowly over the remains of my enemy. It was only then that I noticed the iron sand that surrounded me. The Kazekage himself did not think that I could protect myself from such a situation and acted to protect me, but I managed myself. The sand returned to him as I examined the boy who was intent on taking my life. He was shaking, staring wide-eyed at what remained of his puppet. Perhaps it was in grief of his failure, or horror at the realisation of what he did, it made no difference to me. I was too concerned with my decisive victory.

"Arashi!" My smirk grew wider as the old hag boomed my name. Turning back to face them I saw the backs of her brother and the Kazekage leaving the parapet while she glared down at me. I couldn't help but smile. I spited the teacher who saw nothing but failure from me. "Come with me. The rest of you, clean up the mess!" As the old witch followed her fellow elders from the hall, my classmates began to raise their voices as I was heading to leave. The majority scoffed and refused to look at me. Some muttered all kinds of insults. One even spat in front of me. I was used to being alone, but such hatred hurt me. Only slightly though. Regardless I held my head high as I dismissed my summons and continued to the door.

Chiyo stood at the entrance to the hall laughing. "So very clever aren't you?" Her tone was a lot less malicious than I had prepared for but I stayed cautious. "You caught us all with that impressive little trick. Furthermore we didn't actually expect for it to defeat everybody as well. You did surprisingly well. Though a complete failure for the Puppet Brigade, the Kazekage took note of your interesting use of the technique. He wants you for the ANBU. It's not exactly an offer you can refuse." Guffawing with laughter she began to walk away. "It works out well for the both of us as our paths need never cross again." I bowed my head slightly, allowing my trademark smirk to make an appearance. Maybe I was wrong about the old bat, maybe she isn't so bad at all. More importantly though, the result had turned out far better than I could have ever imagined. I was to be an ANBU of Sunagakure by the order of the Third Kazekage.


	2. What Lies Beneath

It was your typical reinforced porcelain mask of the Sunagakure ANBU. Yet I couldn't help but smirk at the decoration. Each mask varied in slight ways to mark each individual, my own had five thin grey lines spreading out from the nose across the cheeks, almost like whiskers. I didn't envision whiskers though; I saw my blades fanned out behind me as they were in the Puppet Brigade entrance exam. A fitting tribute to my origins and success to say the least. I smiled and thanked the shinobi who dealt with the ANBU equipment requisitions before taking my leave. On my way back home I went over the details of the mission I had been assigned. My first mission as a member of the Hidden Sand ANBU filled me with equal amounts of excitement and nerves, mostly because I knew I had to succeed and rather looked forward to the thrill.

There had been a lot of 'mysterious disappearances' throughout the country over the past month that required further investigation. Rumour suggested abductions but something was definitely off about them and it seemed plausible that the incidences seemed to follow a pattern. Furthermore an increased amount of activity had been noted around the border shared with the Land of Fire. The war had tensions at an all-time high and this could well be the preparations of an attack. Naturally the Kazekage had ordered that the nature of the movements at the border was looked into and suitable action was taken to counteract it, while the case of the missing persons was solved and any person found behind the happenings was to be captured, interrogated, and punished accordingly.

The journey home was not particularly long. Mostly because I found myself walking rather quickly, almost breaking out in a jog. Slamming the front door shut behind me I ran to the full body mirror in my room. I held out the mask in front of my face before slowly bringing it against my skin. It was colder than I had first anticipated, but it felt right. In the mirror, the brown of my irises threatened to fade into the shadow created by the mask, but the amber specks around my pupils were still distinguishable, as they always were. I tightened my two braids and threw them back before donning my cloak over my left shoulder in my usual fashion. The two summoning scrolls for my blades lay rolled up beside my bed. They fitted nicely in the pouches of my belt at each hip. I couldn't help but look at myself in the mirror once more. I was ready. Was I truly ready though? No matter what I told myself I could not shake the nerves that whispered doubt in the back of my mind. I reached up to run my fingers along the mask I adorned and stared at the reflection. I had no choice, only my duty.

I set off before noon. The site I was sent to investigate was near the vicinity of the border and the most recently reported. A new member being given such a potentially dangerous mission? It seemed as if I was being tested. Not that I was complaining, well, except for the time it took to get there. I could deal with the solitude of the travel as I was used to being alone, but the endless desert brought time to a standstill. Perhaps company would have been a relief, though I feel that word may be a little strong. Company would have been a distraction from the gnawing doubt that still lingered. It only seemed to intensify as the sun began to set the next day and the small cluster of huts was in sight. The twelve ANBU sent out had to have completed their investigations and reach the rendezvous point by midnight. I was ahead of schedule and had plenty of time to investigate.

Scouting the surrounding area only proved that the site was in the same state as the rest; empty. Any tracks that perhaps once existed were swallowed up by the unforgiving desert and no movement was noted within, or around any of the buildings at any point during my excruciatingly long wait. Completely and absolutely deserted, or so I hoped. That left nothing else than to enter. Impatience seemed to win over the doubt back while I was bored observing but each step toward the first hut amplified the uncertainty. It almost verged on fear. The door was wide open and darkness waited within. I summoned my blades and hid them beneath the sand, yet was met with some resistance, before lighting a lantern to see if the commotion drew any attention. I called out and was met by the whistle of the cold wind. I caught my reflection in one of the slender blades. The sight of the mask, the reminder of my duty, erased all doubt from my mind as I stepped into the first building.

Nothing. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No notes. No clues. No hints. No pointers. Nothing! It was almost too perfect. The next hut was the same. And the following one. And the one after that. And that next three. There was nothing. Nothing at all. Yet it was all just too perfect. There must be something. I sat against one of the huts. Anything. Something. Nothing. I began pacing back and forth. Thoughts ran in circles round my head. The moon was rising. The wind picked up. My cloak and hair rustled. The wind. Nobody could survive out here in these when the winds got bad. There must be something else. Some form of further protection. Nothing visible. Something out of sight. A cellar! Down. I looked down. The struggle to bury my blades. It must be!

I prodded my weapons into the ground at various points around the investigation zone to confirm the location of the cellar. Every building had nothing below it as the blades went down easily, except for the first one where I struggled to conceal the blades beneath the sand. Impatience and pride tempered me while stepping back into the first familiar perfect hut. I lined my blades up and tore into the floor. They danced through the air, flying high then swooping low as my fingers moved frantically controlling the strings. They bounced from floor to wall in my attempt to unravel the secret of the room. I halted my attack for the time being as I stepped outside and waited for a response in case someone was hiding within. Driving my blades into the ground once more I drew an explosive tag from my pouch. If I can't find the door I guess I'll just have to make a door. Rather brazen but I suppose hopelessly waving blades around isn't too professional either. I brought it close to my cheek and heard the hiss of it priming, attaching a chakra string I cast it into the building to the centre of the room and began to walk away with fanned blades behind me.

There was more mess and rubble than I would have preferred but such is a by-product when you use explosive tags. I took the lantern and my blades with me before hopping down into the cellar. It was much larger than I had thought and much more foreboding too. The air was thick, dense, warm, and wrong. A pungent, unnatural smell lay heavy in the air. Worktops surrounded me in organised rows but their tops were covered in clutter. I rummaged through them to find a mix of materials, the occasional weapon, vials and flasks containing substances of all sorts, before clearing it all to uncover the schematic beneath. Brilliant, this was sure to shed light on the case! I knew pride for an instant before it was wiped from my mind as I plummeted into a sea of confusion. I had seen these kinds of blueprints before. I knew these materials, these weapons, these substances. They were for… creating puppets.

I scanned round the room as I lay down the plans. Describing the exact emotion I felt when my eyes fixed upon the sight at the far back of the room is somewhat impossible. I suppose it started with curiosity; something was back there. I was drawn to it. I stumbled toward the back of the room until the light from the lantern illuminated it. Curiosity was quickly followed by disbelief; surely not. What I saw I refused to believe. It had to be wrong. I prayed it was wrong. Then horror. My mind fell blank and the rest of my body was paralysed, but my legs kept going as if possessed. One step after another until I was face to face with the monstrosity. Being so close to it brought repulsion but honestly, I was stood in awe. There was more to it than I had noticed. It was hung up like some slaughtered animal carcass. Hesitantly I reached out to touch the wonder but immediately retracted my hand upon contact. It was warm and actually felt like skin. A red scorpion in a red diamond was etched into the neck, like some trademark. In those cold, vapid, lifeless eyes I looked toward the exit. Lit only by the moonlight I finally noticed the figure.

"Didn't I say it would be better if our paths never crossed again?"

Truly, I wish they never did.


	3. True War

"H-Help… me. Save me… Kill... Kill… KILL ME!" its raspy mutterings became harrowing screams with its last plea.

It was a human being.

Well, you could hardly even call it that much. The husk of what was once a man was strung up by its arms against the wall of the dark, dingy basement. Being propped up like this only drew attention to the fact that this thing wasn't normal. Wasn't normal? You could hardly even call it that either. This thing was as far from right as imaginable and possible in this and any existence. Its joints were defined, features chiselled, and skin so smooth, so porcelain, so… perfect. I was paralysed by the very sight of it.

It was a human being. Was being the operative word.

Another inhuman scream as it lurched forward brought me to my senses. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I think I was going to say sorry. My hands and eyes shut an instant afterward, before liquid splattered over me. I heard the lantern roll behind me after being dropped, hiding the machination in my shadow. A small justice that I didn't need to fully gaze upon the mess when my eyes twitched open. The thing had ceased functioning after its chest became a porcupine with my blades. Just like the puppet in the exam. Like a puppet. But this one covered me in blood. Unlike the puppet in the exam. Unlike a puppet. No, it wasn't blood, it couldn't be. Blood was in humans. In humans, not puppets!

I fell to my knees as the entire world seemed to fall to ruin around me. It isn't possible. This was a man belonging to the Land of the Wind, in a village of the Land of the Wind. The use of puppets was unique to the ninja of the Village Hidden in the Sand, of the Land of the Wind. It wasn't confusion that burned and consumed my head; it was disbelief. A resounding want and need to believe that this sin which was an affront to humanity itself did not exist. The sound of the old crone's chortling above her slow, deliberate footsteps echoed around the room. The plodding and laughter stopped directly behind me. An eerie silence plagued the air until broken by the witch's decrepit lungs sucking up a huge gulp of air to spew out the shit she called words. Her wrinkled claw perched on my right shoulder as she boomed;

"Arashi, my dear sweet girl. Do you know what true war means? Heh, of course you don't. Allow this 'old hag', as you call me, to give you one final lesson. You children believe that since you were born into a time of war it means you know everything about it. False. You know not even half the reality. You live under a veil of glory, pride, and victory in war. Innocence really. You didn't really believe you could play out that illusion all your life. You're stupid, but not that stupid. Answer me this, do you also believe that the last man standing is the winner of the war?"

Silence hung heavy once more until the harpy accepted it as my answer.

"He is not. His is the accursed fate. He must live on. Living is no gift to him, no reward for surviving. No man may continue a life in the present to lead to the future with such a past. He must exist while so many others who should, do not. He must question why he survived and they did not. He is no more special than them. He must relive his foes' last moments every time he closes his eyes, as their dead faces stare at his living one. He must carry the stain of his enemies' blood on his hands, hands that will never wash clean no matter how much he scrubs the skin off them. He must bear the burden of every life he cut short, and for every one of those the web of connections he severed. He took someone's parent, someone's sibling, someone's child, someone's friend, someone's lover. And he had no choice but to take them. It was survival or death. But death is no better alternative as I'm sure you may well actually understand. True war has no victors child, only survivors. And they are the real victims."

I muttered a few words under my breath, which seemed to go unnoticed by the crone.

"What lies before you is a product of such a war. A war that has raged on for too long. A war that has claimed too many lives. A war that threatens to leave no survivors for any side. That is what true war means."

I lifted my head in the tiniest of gestures to flash a smirk to the ranting elder, muttering my words only to be ignored again.

"Imagine a clock, a countdown to your death. The only way you earn more time is to sacrifice more of yourself. You try to endure at first, thinking you won't hear the clock's final toll before the war is over. Hope is the first payment it claims. You abandon that as the war seems to have no end in sight. The clock ticks down faster and demands more. Joy, laughter, friendship, love, eventually morality. We traded that a long time ago as a price for continued survival. You lose so much of yourself you can barely even be considered the person you used to be. Yet the clock still ticks away maddeningly fast. Until you begin to sacrifice others in the face of such horrors. You could never understand. What lies before you is the product of freeing ourselves from the idiotic restraints of morality, combined with desperation and despair when no other option presents itself in the wake of true war!"

By this point her rambling had driven me to laughter. What started out as a contained spluttering, emerged into a giggle, to quickly explode into hysterics. I threw my head back to stare the bitch in the eye before repeating my words for one last time;

"Count the blades."

Her eyes shot back to the carcass on the wall. I watched as her every wrinkle in her ugly face screwed up in an expression of complete disgust. That's right, only nine. She looked back down to catch a glimpse of my right hand, which was in no fist like she had assumed. My thumb was upright with a barely noticeable chakra string extending from it to our right. Her biggest mistake was underestimating me, again. You'd have thought she'd have learned not to make the same error from the exam. However the price she'd pay this time wouldn't be her students looking like fools caught with their pants down, it would be with her own body. I jerked my thumb left as she jumped back. The hidden blade that flew out disconnected her forearm from the rest of her body. Yet another payment as part of her 'true war', and she'll continue to pay until there was nothing left. She continued to retreat as I stood up, removing each blade from the human puppet one by one with a deafening clattering noise as each broke free from the construct.

"Thank you old hag."

Once all nine were free, I cast them out to each side in a pile, pointed diagonally from my hip to the floor.

"You made me realise something;"

I flourished the trap that proudly claimed half her limb, which at this time dangled comically from my shoulder due to the chakra strings she had attached to me. Nice try, as if it would actually work though. The flourish severed the strings and the flesh fell to the floor with a satisfying thud.

"You're right."

My blade joined the others to my right. I turned my head to my left with a taunting smirk while arcing the piles of blades upwards.

"I know nothing of true war."

I dragged my weapons up agonisingly slowly to tease the monster. They stopped in pairs, one on the right with one on the left, stopping at the exact same time at the exact same point in a perfect mirror image.

"But I do know one thing;"

I glanced back to the wall to view my shadow. The lantern projected a scary image as the final two blades became the edges of my wings. Every blade was at an equal angle to the rest, which threw menacing black spikes from the shadowy warrior across the entire back wall. The puppet was completely engulfed in the spectacle of darkness I had created. It seems whoever gave me that mask has a sense of humour.

"I am nobody."

With wings spread I turned to face my old mentor. I secured the mask on my face, then raised my arms to join my wings in preparation for battle.

"This mask proves that. I am nobody but a member of the ANBU. The Black Ops. The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad. The Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai. Lady Chiyo, my dear old hag, do you know what that truly means? There is nothing in this world to me except my mission!"


	4. What Pride is Worth

I do believe that was the last time the old geezer underestimated me.

Had she insulted me again and brought out her usual puppets with the intention of going all out to bring a swift end to my life it would have taken little effort to outlast her. There was no way she could have survived any length of time with such a wound, or have fought effectively with it. Instead she selected the wiser option, immediately seeking to stop the blood pouring from her stump using medical ninjutsu, while falling back and dodging my assault in the basement. I anticipated this wholly but was still rather hopeful that her retreat might take our little scuffle back above ground, where I would hold the advantage. Clearly however she realised the situation and refused to hand that much to me. Down here my attack manoeuvrability was heavily limited by the roof while Chiyo effectively used the workbenches as cover. Yet the small size of the basement also hindered her defensive options. Sweeping attacks in such an enclosed space left her little opportunity for escape, and snipped more than a few grey hairs off the top of her spotted scalp as she just managed to slither away in time.

Now, to address a question wrought with rumours and whispers: why would such a hateful old bag of bones ever wish to learn the noble art of the healer? She was a killer, and a damn good one at that. Too good at murdering and far too proud of it to fall from her glorified 'honoured' pedestal and wallow amongst the sick and injured all her life. Regardless she was undoubtedly one of the best medics alive, proved only by her curing what no other in Suna could. It was also rumoured that she could rival Konoha's Slug Princess, Tsunade Senju, who boasted a solid record for concocting an antidote for every poison the twisted monster crafted. Some say that the granddaughter of the First Hokage found some secret practice to preserve her youth, while the old fart decomposed to a prune. Becoming jealous of the Senju woman and her alleged 'eternal' youth, a deep burning hatred festered in the aged crone that fuelled her to challenge the slug girl in every way imaginable. More realistically however, it follows that with an understanding of poisons, which my ex-teacher had plenty of, one lent themselves well to medical ninjutsu and in a time of war any and all medical ninjas were appreciated.

But I'll be damned if my curiosity was to be sated by mere public knowledge. I was drawn to something a little closer to the truth, and a lot more secret. A few glances, sweet words, and a painful amount of fake laughing landed me one seduced male within the Puppet Brigade. It wasn't long before I had him muttering in hushed tones the secrets he overheard from his superior; Chiyo led a failed project to breathe life into puppets. That was the sole reason for her study of medical ninjutsu. The boy didn't know or couldn't access any details beyond that so he didn't exactly stick around for long. Not that he didn't try his hardest to. It was almost rather cute. Only a few ever spouted madness of experimentation to create 'living' or 'human' puppets for the war. Even fewer dared to say that the honoured hag herself was involved in it. However grief does strange things to a person. With the loss of her son and daughter-in-law perhaps it was possible that she sought to suspend their souls for all eternity in puppet form. It was easier to disbelieve those words back then. Now all I had left was an undying want, no a need, to put my faith in anything but reality.

Despite the utter turmoil resounding within me, one mental pillar stood unshaken; my mission. It was all I had now. The Third Kazekage had ordered me to investigate the mysterious disappearances, and apprehend or dispose of any culprit behind them if they were indeed malicious. I had discovered the truth. Or so I had thought.

Two and a half minutes dragged on for what felt like forever. Heart pounding adrenaline, fear, and excitement brought time to a standstill. Blood began to drip more slowly from the old woman's wound due to her treatment, driving me to press my attack more hectically. She displayed no sign of fatigue despite the intense combination of blood loss, attempted self-healing using medical ninjutsu during combat, and hauling her ancient body around drastically to evade my continual barrage of blades. Infuriatingly she actually seemed to be adapting to patterns in my movements. I had never anticipated that her experience would grant her such sharp analysis over my style. Make no mistake however, this does not mean that I was the one doing the underestimating now. As I was running out of time before the imminent counterattack that potentially lay not even another two and a half minutes away, I deduced an instantaneous plan to at least edge the field further to my favour. The room was becoming a cluttered mess, with debris both lying and flying around everywhere. This environment just didn't suit me at all and I was growing tired of the games the harpy thought she had me caught up in.

With my opponent backed against the wall adjacent to the human puppet monstrosity, I lunged forward with one hand in front, five blades embedding themselves into the wall in a horizontal line where the ugliness once was. As expected the witch ducked with naught but a second to spare. I was certain she was moving so late to mock me now. No matter though, I had her exactly where I wanted her. Her eyes shot upward, alerted as she noticed the chakra threads attached to each blade dissipating. I spun around putting the other blades between us in a wall as a distraction, while attaching new chakra strings to five explosive tags. I poured my heart and soul into hoping she wouldn't notice my preparation. Mid-turn I cast four of them out around me, sticking them to the floor and ceiling while I primed another and brandished it in front of Chiyo upon completion of my turn. The sound of my favourite hissing signalled the beginning of the countdown to ruin. Five. She looked at me like I was mad. After all, using explosive tags at this range under such conditions would be suicide. I leapt and surrounded her between the other blades I had at my disposal and the wall. Four. She darted for the gap where I jumped from. She surely knew it was a trap now. Three. Our eyes met as I flew over her and we exchanged smirks. Two. I threw the explosive tag on the ceiling behind me, planting my legs firm against the wall and pointing myself toward the tag. One. I inhaled sharply. In that second doubts flooded my mind. Had I miscalculated the timing? Was the tag faulty? Had I primed it correctly? Had she been able to disarm it? I could feel the momentum stored in my legs fading. I tried desperately to loop the one free chakra string I had left round the rest of my blades that were below me in the wall. It hadn't reached the last blade when the explosive tag lived up to its name and I threw myself at the blast.

My madness paid off as I shot out the smoke and emerged above the ground once more almost mostly unscathed. I could feel pain all over my body but could not pinpoint any particular source. A ringing in my left ear made me worried that I might have been deafened. I was badly disoriented. The world spun as I could hardly process what was in front of me. A large white ball of light shone clearly against a sheet of spotty blackness then began to roll around in it, flickering in and out of my vision. Looking back I realised this was my view of the night sky as I spun through the air, hit the ground, and continued to roll. Not my most graceful move I'll admit. I dragged both my aching arms forward, throwing all my blades in front of me before cancelling the chakra strings to let them fall to the ground. More importantly though it primed the remaining four explosive tags. In my hazy state I struggled to count the number of weapons I had rescued from my antics before a much larger boom sounded behind me and a greater shockwave shook the desert. I sat up slowly as I regained my senses, but the ringing still persisted to sing in my ear. I turned back to spit in the direction of the hole where I buried the hag;

"Now you really do die. No more pretending."

I brought myself to my feet as something from my face fell to the floor. Instinctively I brought my hands to my face to investigate. My body froze while my fingers fumbled. Originating at the middle of the forehead, snaking down the centre, and then ending at the lower left cheek was a crack that split my mask in two. I stared down at the smaller fragment that lay in the sand. My pride… The pain in my left arm dragged me back to reality. I stifled a cry as I pulled a large chunk of debris from my bicep. The pain and damage to my arm came second in my head. First was the state of my cloak. It was torn in two from the rock and had been tainted a deep sickening crimson. It was all I had left. Besides one thing, well ten things. No matter how much I wished it, I knew better. In the last second before the initial explosion I hadn't managed to loop my chakra string round the hilts of all five blades. Now I only had eight. Eight blades lay in the sand before me and no matter how hard I tried I could find no more. I had lost them in the battle. Chiyo had inflicted three wounds upon me that would cut deeper and linger for longer than any physical wound ever could.

You could describe me as anything but sentimental, but choose to, and you'd be wrong. I'm just as sentimental as the next person. That person may choose to form an attachment with multiple people, or objects, while I chose only three objects. That makes me sound like an inept loner. Truthfully, any relationship formed with me was made out of convenience for the other party, instead of being genuine. I was mostly the victim of those relationships in my youth until I became hardened and instead commanded them. You see, I have no parents or family. Or I might have but they mean nothing to me. I was abandoned at birth, dumped outside the Sunagakure Shinobi Academy with only a cloth cloak wrapped around my little naked self. Hence began my life under their care and training. My upbringing was undeniably tough and lonely, and as a result of that is not something I relive often or with great joy. The cloak really was all I had in the world. Yet my survival, my very existence in this world despite all odds, sparked something strong deep within me; pride. I suppose I did particularly well in my classes at the Academy to catch the eye of the Puppet Brigade. With little choice and even less interest I was drafted into their programme, or as I liked to view it, their freak show. Here, little boys played with killing machines for their sick enjoyment. Due to my disinterest I was bullied for all number of reasons, and fell swiftly to the bottom of the class. You'd assume my pride would demand the centre stage and spotlight, but that would be a mix of arrogance and idiocy. I hungered for something far beyond that scope. So I perverted their dear chakra strings technique to spite them, to turn their own weapon against them. I learned to hold weapons in the air and have them act as disconnected extensions of my body. It took a lot of work, both to hide and perfect my technique, but their scorn and my hatred provided plenty of ammunition. Eventually content with my threads and technique I envisioned the ideal weapon for my style. Unique and beautiful, a blade design capable of tearing through flesh, bone, and wood came to me one night. Call it divine intervention if you will. With all my savings from missions, along with a discount earned by flirtatious means, I poured every last penny into the realisation of my dream. When the time was right I bared my claws against those who suppressed me, and tore their dreams asunder in the process. Their meagre minds were set on passing the exam. What folly. I saw the audience, the stage, the show, and reached for the moon. I was unsure of where my ambition would land me, but the cold, porcelain, grey-whiskered ANBU mask was a fitting reward. It represented many things. To allies, it was a sign of power, skill, and ability. To enemies, it was a symbol of fear and despair. To me, it was the very embodiment of my pride. I like to call it pride anyway. Perhaps it really was hubris.

A choked laughter came from the smoking pit. I readied my weapons once more and was stunned to find how much of a difference in balance two missing blades on one hand made. I flicked one blade across, relying on one blade per finger as I tucked my thumbs in tight against the palms of my hand. A figure sifted through the smoke. She was a state, though I was no better. I knew it would take more than that to kill her, after all she certainly was a tenacious ancient hag.

"You'll never be able to permanently put me in the ground child."

Two puppets trailed behind her from the rising black plume. So that's how she survived. Her usual two machinations packed full of hidden surprises. One shaped to resemble a male, and the other a female. Morbid imitations of human life. The 'mother' and 'father'. Before the abomination in the basement, nothing had sickened me more than them. Named with connotations of care and protection they reaped lives, not saved them. Their lifeless eyes stared deep into my soul as they floated awkwardly behind her. Of course, she was no more used to using those two with only one hand than I was fighting only with eight blades. She held them up with two chakra strings each, likely leaving one spare to attach to whichever she chose to attack me with at one time. A sensible yet predictable option. In spite of my revulsion for those two freaks I was relieved that I did not find myself facing off against Chiyo's legendary White Secret Technique: the Chikamatsu Collection of Ten Puppets. I had to question if she could even use that technique with only half her ability to control them. The idea of fighting them thrilled me, but I knew it was nothing short of foolhardy. Her steps stopped a reasonable distance from me, comfortable for a puppeteer of course, less so for me.

"I'm surprised you caught me with that first trap Arashi. Your chakra strings always were strong, but that made them obvious. You struggled to conceal them. For me to have missed them, perhaps you do hold potential."

Her compliment was rendered empty by a guffawing laughter. Though it stopped abruptly.

Multiple smoke bombs went off behind and around my old teacher. Following her eyes I was certain that the same was happening to me. Our eyes met in momentary panic as I moved first. I turned my back to her and edged quickly back, putting a gap between myself and the smoke, halving the distance between myself and the crone. Her eyes told no lies. This was no device of hers. I shouted back at her but kept my gaze fixed upon the unknown intrusion in front of me;

"Are you just going to stand there?! We might have a score to settle and I assure you given half a second I'll end this but right now…"

I felt her back pressed against mine. Sweaty and warm, it was better than being impaled by one of her puppets. I smirked.

"No need to shout girl. I'm not deaf yet. Don't get in my way."

From the fog appeared a squad of shinobi. They had us surrounded, outnumbered, trapped, and injured. Ripe for the kill. Having literally just been ambushed my mind was crystal clear on three ideals. Firstly, like hell I'd go down without a fight. Secondly, I would never die before Chiyo. Third and finally, it'd be me to take her head, not one of these outsiders. All were ready to attack, except the one to my right. His sword remained holstered, slung over his right shoulder. From the way he stepped forward I guessed he was the squad leader. Eyes trailing over to him I noticed his spiky silver hair, the back of which was pulled into a ponytail, and his forehead protector, adorned with the symbol of the Hidden Leaf, glistening in the moonlight.

"This isn't quite what I expected to find."

_A boy sat atop a sandy dune in the distance. His red hair swayed in the breeze. His brown eyes watched intently. His mouth curled into a smile. Like puppets without strings they danced for him. Soon he would make them perfect. He couldn't wait. Soon he would make their corpses dance for him. The first of his special collection. Soon 'he' would lead the dance for him. His head turned slowly to the paralysed body snared by the tail of his shell. His smile spread to a maniacal grin. He climbed back into his shell and began to walk away. This piece of art could wait no longer._


End file.
